


The lengths I go to

by colemlock01



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Drugs, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colemlock01/pseuds/colemlock01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John returns to 221B covered in blood and clearly battered, Sherlock discovers what John has been up to over previous weeks. In a stand off, they both discover the lengths they'll go to in order to protect each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is taken from an RP on omegle- hence the layout. I would give credit to the partner but a Tumblr or Ao3 wasn't left. I kept the majority of it the same but criticism is always welcome.

John stumbled into the flat, bruised and bleeding. Sherlock didn't even look up from his newspaper, he never did.

"Oh good you're back." he said, without realising the situation and the current state of his flatmate.

"Yeah," John murmured, making no indication of said injuries, his heart pounding. He looked around to see if Sherlock had taken the first aid kit out the bathroom - it seemed he hadn't, so he headed there, trying not to trip over. Sherlock couldn't know, it would get...messy. He fumbled around in the first aid kit, trying not to attract attention to himself but his hands were shaking so much that he dropped the bottle of wound-disinfectant and it smashed on the tiles. Sherlock paused, hearing the bottle smash. His eyes flicked up from his paper. 

"John?" he called, folding his newspaper neatly and setting it aside. John panicked, hearing the rustling paper and the creak of leather of Sherlock’s armchair. 

"It's fine!" he called out, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. "Just knocked a bottle over!" he added before cursing at himself and attempting to pick up the shards from the floor. Sherlock's eyes narrowed further at the tone, and he stood smoothly, silently making his way to the bathroom, pushing the door open. John turned away from him as soon as he heard the door creak open, making sure he wouldn't be able to see his face. 

"It's okay, I can manage" he said, trying to sound calm. At that moment a large piece of glass slid through his fingers, slicing his flesh as it fell. "Shit!" he cried out, bringing the wound to his mouth to suck it and grimacing at the taste of blood and disinfectant. Sherlock was next to him in the space of a second, gripping his wrist firmly, manoeuvring him away from the glass swiftly. 

"John, you're a doctor, you should know better than to pick up glass with you-" he froze, his gaze having found John's face. "What happened?" he demanded. John tried to turn his face away but Sherlock had reached up and taken hold of his chin so he was unable to move his face. 

"It's nothing" he insisted, fighting away from Sherlock’s grip, but he was being held hard enough to leave bruises.

"Nothing?" Sherlock repeated, softly, dangerously so. "This is not nothing, John! What happened?" he asked, though it was more of a demand than a request. 

John finally pushed his hand away. "It's fine Sherlock! I can handle it!" he answered, standing up so he could run his bleeding fingers under the cold tap in a hope to stem the flow of blood.

"Yes, you look like you're handling it exceptionally well," Sherlock stated dryly. "I don't hear you explaining." he added. John sighed heavily. Sherlock couldn't know. He'd only blame himself.

"John," Sherlock said firmly, clearly impatient as he took a step closer again. "Tell me, please...or would you prefer me to attempt to deduce it?"

"No, don't bother" John said finally. "I just knew you've been having a rough time lately and thought I'd do something to help.. It didn't exactly go well.." he sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

"What did you do?" Sherlock questioned, eyes narrowed again, gaze intent.

John sighed again, trying not to look Sherlock in the eyes. "About a month ago, I found your stash Sherlock, Your drugs. You didn't hide them very well. It didn't look like they'd been touched for a while so I got rid of them. Then I realised you'd probably just go get more when you found out they were gone." John was talking so fast it was all a bit of a blur.

"You didn't..." Sherlock breathed, eyes wide. "How hurt are you? John?"

"Not very.” He shrugged. “Considering the man who deals to you has a very expansive selection of weapons." John finally looked up and into Sherlock's eyes. "I just wanted to convince him not to sell you anymore. I offered to pay him and everything.." John reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of notes, wincing as he did so.  
Sherlock's throat felt sick. 

"You idiot," he whispered. "You could have been killed." He said as he tugged at John's shirt, to examine the extent of the damage himself but John pushed his hands away.

"I'm fine honestly. Well, I'm a lot better than I expected to be" he said, forcing an awkward laugh that made his ribs hurt.

"That's not reassuring, you forget he was my dealer, I know what he's like," Sherlock growled, moving to grab the shirt again. "Now, stop being stubborn, and let me help you." He demanded. This time John gave up trying to fight him and let Sherlock remove his shirt. The bruises were shiny and purple across his ribcage where he'd been kicked on the ground. Sherlock didn't need John to tell him what had happened. The shape and colouring of the bruise meant he had already figured out the type and size of the shoe the person who did the kicking had been wearing. 

"Sofa. Sit. Now." Sherlock ordered curtly, though his eyes were soft as he scooped up the first aid kit. Millions of images were flashing through his eyes of what could have happened to John and he took a steady grip on John's arm - steering him out the bathroom. The glass could be dealt with later.  
John did as he was ordered. He didn't plan on telling Sherlock all of what had happened. How the dealer was so offended that he put the barrel of a gun to John's forehead before changing his mind and clubbing him round the face with it instead. John shuddered, remembering the pain.

"What else happened? What aren't you telling me?" Sherlock asked quietly, silently plotting his revenge upon the dealer. However much he needed drugs, he needed John more. This was unacceptable. How could he have let John get hurt like this? He knelt down in front the doctor, pulling various things from the first aid kit, setting to work and being sure to be gentle.

"I'm not telling you anything, you'll just go after him" John answered stubbornly, seeing right through the detective and his intentions. "The whole point of this was to keep you out of danger not put you in it" he continued, wincing as Sherlock applied antiseptic to a cut on his face.

"John, I'll go after him anyway and get it out of him if you refuse to tell me," Sherlock replied simply, eyes flickering marginally at the wince. "How could you put yourself in danger like this?" he half whispered, half hissed.

"No you won't!" John almost shouted at him. "This is the first one that ended up this way actually; apparently other drug dealers are more open to bribes than yours. He's a nice fella. You know, the ‘Go for the drugs, stay for the company’ type." He joked lightly. Of course John hadn't known where Sherlock got his supply from, so he tried every drug dealer he could find. Sherlock stared at him. John had been going to all of them and he hadn't noticed. 

"To remind you of another little fact that could have gone wrong, are you at all comprehending what Moriarty meant when he said he was a consulting criminal? That does actually extend to drugs. Who knows what could have happened to you!" He didn't bother contesting John's protest, it wouldn't stop him.

John was suddenly indignant. "Yeah, and I'll keep going. I’ll go to every one in the whole of London if I have to. I don't care what happens to me, I'm not letting you put yourself in danger" he snapped, frowning at Sherlock.

"You will not," Sherlock said, very coldly, very flatly. "I will not see you harmed for my sake again. I'm not letting you put yourself in danger."

"Stop taking the drugs then." John answered bluntly. "And don't even think about trying to go to that dealer about this" he gestured to his black and blue torso. "It's not worth it"

"I'll stop taking the drugs.” Sherlock replied simply, but he wasn’t finished speaking. “But I will most certainly be visiting the dealer.” He added. "Of course it's worth it. He /hurt/ you, John."

"Okay then" John said standing up. "We'll go right now. While we're there I might just pick up a little something for myself. I told him not to sell you drugs but I didn't say anything about me"

Sherlock stared, eyes wide. "John," he said, through gritted teeth. "I said I would stop taking them!"

"You don't get it do you?" John said with a bitter laugh. "You're complaining about the drug dealer hurting me, you're the one hurting me Sherlock. These bruises are nothing compared to watching you when you've taken something. Maybe if I took something myself you'd understand.."

Sherlock swallowed. "I'll stop, I swear I'll stop...you...no." He shook his head emphatically. "Just...sit back down, okay?" he pleaded, tapping the space where John had just been sat with his palm. 

"And promise me you won't go back to that dealer. One of us in this state is back enough, and he might not be so considerate after two visits." John tried to make a joke, he knew how much that last comment had hurt Sherlock.

Sherlock was silent for a moment, contemplating what to say. "I won't return in such a state. And I won't return to him for drugs. I'm not planning on being /considerate/ to him so what does it matter how he receives me." he said tightly, though his voice was subdued, and he didn't smile at the feeble attempt at humour.

“You're not going Sherlock." John said flatly. His experience with that man had been enough, he didn't want to imagine Sherlock enduring something similar or even worse.

"Oh? And how were you planning on stopping me?" Sherlock returned, eyebrows raised in a challenge.

John pulled a small, clear bag of white pills out of his jeans pocket. "I lied when I said I got rid of your stash.” He said simply. “I kept them in case you ever found out what I was doing.” He pulled a pill out of the bag and examined it. "What do these do anyway?"

Sherlock stiffened entirely upon seeing the pills. "John...stop it." It was too snappy to be a plea but not authoritative enough to be a command. 

Regardless, John was having none of it. "You know the deal, Sherlock." he put the pill in his mouth and pretended to swallow it. "How many do I have to take before the message sinks in?"

"Okay," Sherlock said, immediately, shaking, hands rising in a placating gesture. "Just stop. John. /Stop./" he was almost tearful.

John had managed to put a few more in his mouth before Sherlock had given in. He spat them back into the palm of his hand and pulled a grimace. "Eurgh, they taste grim."

Sherlock blinked at him, looking truly dumbfounded. "You-you didn't-" he stuttered, making John scoff. 

"You really think I'm that stupid?! I've seen what these things do to you Sherlock. Besides, I'm not actually planning on overdosing to prove a point." He rolled up the plastic bag with the remainder of the pills and put it back in his pocket. Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly. 

"Of course," he said, stiffly, apparently back to being emotionless.

"I'm surprised you didn't 'deduce' I hadn't swallowed them" John said mockingly with a slight chuckle but wincing afterwards. His ribcage was too painful to laugh.

"Terror plays odd tricks on the mind," Sherlock replied coldly, sweeping over to get some painkillers and a glass of water, before handing them to John.

"More pills!" he joked before actually taking one. He spotted Sherlock staring at the tiny bit of the plastic bag that was still visible from his pocket. "That threat was rather effective, I wonder if it would work twice?" he said dryly.

Sherlock spun abruptly, stalking to his room and slamming the door shut, the sound of it ripped through John's skull, which was still throbbing from the pounding it had taken earlier.  
"Sherlock!" he shouted after him, wincing at the pain the volume of his own voice had on his head. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean that!" he followed Sherlock into the bedroom where he found Sherlock laying across his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"You should go and rest, John. Have a warm shower. Eat some take out," he said.

John ignored Sherlock's advice and sat down on the bed next to him. "I'm sorry.." he whispered.

"No you're not," Sherlock said, flatly. "You got what you wanted. A victory all round, I presume."

"I am!" John protested. "I didn't want to have to go to such measures Sherlock. I genuinely didn't think it would be necessary. But I'm not having you go out after him. Imagine how it feels to see me this way. You want me to go through that as well?"

"You wouldn't," Sherlock stated, still staring at the ceiling, not looking at John. "And believe me, I don't have to /imagine/ anything, I'm rather intimate with the sensation currently."

"What makes you so sure?" John argued. "For all I know you could go over there and he could kill you on the spot" John shuddered at the thought.

"Because he'd be dead or on the floor writhing in pain before he had the opportunity," Sherlock murmured, all too pleasantly.

"I'm not taking that risk" John said in a monotone, trying not to let the emotion in his voice show how upset he really was. "Because if something did happen to you, I really would take all of these." He pulled the plastic bag out of his pocket again and swung it on his finger. He counted the pills in his head. "12 left, do you reckon that would do it?" he asked bitterly. Sherlock's insides, twisted, violently. 

"And yet, you would hold me helpless while you were injured on my behalf?" he questioned. "You think I wouldn't do the same?" his voice, humiliatingly, cracked. He felt sick, though his eyes immediately snapped to the pills. "Please put those away." John did as requested and shoved the pills in his pocket and stood up. He was still shirtless from Sherlock's examination but in the dim light of the bedroom, the bruises were more prominent against his skin tone.

"Look at me Sherlock!" he shouted, leaving a pause till Sherlock actually did so. "/This/ was my decision. I /chose/ to go out there to protect you not to put you in more danger. If you go out there, it's all been for nothing. Stop thinking you're the hero who needs to plot revenge!"

"And what about you?" Sherlock returned, sitting up sharply. "Going out there and /destroying/ him for what he did to you is /my/ decision and choice. I'm not going to get hurt! And heroism - you have no right to talk about /heroism/ after what you did. I have no delusions of my heroism, John, if I was ever a hero, you would not be in this situation." His hand drifted lightly over the bruises, his expression pained.

John's placed his hands over Sherlock's. "I just wanted to help you.." he breathed.

"I don't deserve it." Sherlock whispered, his voice pained as his fingers continued to drift over John’s torso, visibly flinching when he could deduce the cause of each bruise.

"Don't you ever say that to me. /Ever/" John couldn't hold back his tears anymore. They streamed down his face and dripped down onto his chest. "Please... /please/ Sherlock. If I mean /anything/ to you at all, you won't do it"

"You mean /everything/ to me, John! That's why I feel I have to do this - he hurt you! He - I can't just pretend that's nothing!" Sherlock said, leaning forwards, clasping John's face in his hands. "Don't you understand that?"

John nodded dumbly, his eyes flickering from one of Sherlock’s to the other. Their faces were so close, he could actually taste Sherlock’s breath. He closed the gap between them in one motion, pressing his lips hard against Sherlock’s, causing him to wince at the pressure on his swollen lips. Sherlock was taken by surprise but it only took him seconds to melt into the kiss, his hands remaining at the side of John’s face. John parted his lips slightly and his tongue crept forward, sliding along Sherlock’s lower lip, who parted his own lips as an invitation. Instead of deepening the kiss, John pulled away, mumbling apologies. He looked up into Sherlock’s eyes, smiling a little. 

“Now do you understand?” he chuckled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a smut chapter, because I can :)

Sherlock let out a breath and stared at John, his pupils were ever so slightly more dilated than usual and his lips had swelled slightly due to the kiss, along with a slight flush in his, normally pale, cheeks.

“John.” He said simply, as if that was all that needed saying. His hands remained at either side of John’s face as he continued to look at him for a moment before he pulled John’s face back to his, kissing him desperately. Small moans echoed the room along with the wet noises of separating lips and battling tongues. It was John that took things a step further, moving his fingers to the buttons of Sherlock’s shirt.

Sherlock gulped, suddenly nervous. It was clear in his demeanour and John immediately took his hands away and took a step back from him.

"Sherlock.. We don't have to do this.." John said quietly. “I’m sorry for kissing you. I should have known that you wouldn’t want this, I-..” he tripped over his words and ran out of things to say.

"No, John, don't be silly. You want to." Sherlock said as he tried to smile.

John looked at him pitifully. "This isn't about just me.."

"I want to as well, I promise," Sherlock said. "Really, I've been dreaming, literally dreaming about this forever. Now that it's happening, of course I'm nervous, but it doesn't mean I want it any less."

John shook his head. "I'm not sure, maybe we should wait.."

Sherlock growled, "No." And he pushed John back onto the bed, damn his shoulder, and climbed on top of him. Going with it, John grabbed the collar of Sherlock's shirt and pulled their faces together before using the grip he had on the shirt to tear it open, sending buttons flying in several directions. Sherlock groaned, both in arousal and distain.

"That was my favourite shirt, John!" he grumbled though he wasn’t truly that bothered. In response, Sherlock sat up on John, effectively rubbing their groins together on the way up, and used his long fingers to tear the front of John's jumper open. John grinned. 

"Now we're even." He smirked as he pulled Sherlock back down again, hooking the ripped fabric off Sherlock's shoulders.

"Not even close. That was my favourite shirt whereas that was not your favourite jumper." Sherlock smiled and rolled his hips backward, while moving his head downward to suck on John's neck.

John growled. "I'll buy you a new shirt." before moaning slightly at the sensation of Sherlock's lips against his neck.

"No, no, I don't think so John." Sherlock moaned slightly as the feeling of John under him. He was so elated that he had this effect on him.

"Fine, stay shirtless. I'm not complaining." John chuckled, sending vibrations through the pair of them

"I will, if that's what you want." He gasped at the sensation that John's laugh sent through him. He became weak with desire. "I...don't think I can hold myself up any longer," he stammered. John couldn't help but laugh again, prolonging the vibrating. He was thrilled at the power he had over Sherlock.

Sherlock moaned. "God, John. Why do you feel so good?" His arms shook violently with the effort of keeping him propped, not putting all weight on John below him. Sensing Sherlock’s discomfort, John grabbed him by the shoulders and performed an excellent trick he'd learned during university. Within seconds, he'd spun them around on the bed so John was now on top. He grinned as Sherlock's mouth dropped open and watched him slip the remains of the jumper off of John and stare at his torso. It was perfect and muscular and his scar was beautiful. He could also feel their lower halves pushing against each other and he groaned with every movement.

"Are you sure?" John checked for a final time, not wanting to push Sherlock into anything he didn’t want to do. 

"Positive.” Sherlock breathed, looking into John’s eyes and smiling softly. “I love you, John.” He added.

John smiled softly at him, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. 

“I love you too.” He said quietly, giving him a soft kiss before he started on Sherlock's trousers, removing them slowly as he kissed Sherlock but flinging them across the room when they were clear of Sherlock’s body. He shifted down the bed slightly to kiss Sherlock’s legs as they were bare before returning to face level. Sherlock undid the button on John’s jeans and removed them by pushing them down with his feet. John then threw them in the same direction that Sherlock’s trousers had gone. He kissed Sherlock again, more passionately this time while they were both in just boxers.

Sherlock kissed back, grabbing John's hips and bringing them to him. He grinded them against his own and let out a whimper of desire--a sound he'd never thought he'd make. John let out a groan into Sherlock's mouth as their hips moved together. 

"Last chance to change your mind.." he whispered. He knew he was being persistent but he wanted to make sure Sherlock wasn't going to regret it.

"John please.” He whispered. “I want this. I want you.” He added and pushed his hips up against John’s, emitting a gasp from them both before Sherlock kissed John's scar. "Please don’t ask me again, John. I want this, I do." He reached down and cupped John's erection, massaging it through his boxers, enjoying the sounds it was producing in John. 

"Sher- oh god.." he groaned and bit his lip before pushing Sherlock's hand away. "You're gunna go without at this rate.."

"Then you better hurry," Sherlock mumbled into John's neck. He was pulsing with desire, he needed John. All of this, he had never thought this was possible and here he was, in his bedroom, with John above him, about to have sex. "Please John, hurry."

John sat back and hooked Sherlock's underwear off in one fluid movement, kissing the detectives legs and feet while they were in the air. He stood on his knees as he removed his own boxers but then froze. "Shit." he grumbled.

"What? What's wrong John?" Sherlock asked hurriedly, terrified it was something he’d done.

"Do we have any.. er.. supplies.." John answered awkwardly, blushing a little bit at having had to ask.

“What? You mean like a condom?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows, having assumed that they didn’t need one.

"No I mean.. to make things more comfortable for you.. lubricant.." John blushed further

"Oh, second drawer in the bedside table," Sherlock said nonchalantly, waving his hand casually. 

John frowned in surprise. "Oh.." he replied, complying with Sherlock's instructions. He didn’t even know the detective knew what wanking was.

"Like I said," Sherlock replied sheepishly, looking away from John as a blush crept over his cheeks. "I dreamed of this a lot."

Grabbing the small, phallic shaped bottle from the drawer, John slicked himself up before applying a decent amount of lubricant to his index and middle finger to stretch Sherlock. He smiled at the sounds that spilled from the detective’s lips. When he deemed Sherlock to be suitably stretched, he leaned over to press a quick kiss to the his lips and knelt with his hands on Sherlock's hips and took a deep breath, holding it in.

"Go on, John. I want this so much. I've been...God please. Please, John," Sherlock was stammering now, just feeling John's hands of his hips, in anticipation. He reached a hand down to stroke his erection as well.

John complied, easing forward to breach Sherlock’s body and thrusting gently and torturously slowly forwards, enjoying the feel of Sherlock writhing beneath him, gasping and clawing at the pale skin.

The feeling of John inside of him was so completely amazing. He relished in the feeling of being beneath him. He managed to stutter out a few words as the combined feeling of John inside of him and his erection being touched brought him near the edge. John remained stationary for a moment, giving both himself and Sherlock time to adjust to the new sensations but it wasn’t long before Sherlock spoke up.

“You can move now, John. I'm alright." Sherlock panted and arched and rolled his hips back, just to make the point, gasping as a wave of pleasure ran though him. "John!" He screamed. The action of Sherlock's hips caused John to bite down hard on his lip meaning that he could taste blood. He did as commanded though and began to gently ease back out of Sherlock before thrusting back in, groaning as he did so.

Sherlock growled. "John, I am not going to break. Harder, please." He gripped the covers in one hand and continued pumping his hand up and down his penis with the other. John chuckled slightly, forced to stop himself as the vibrations became too much. He did as Sherlock requested, repeating what he had done before but with more force on the thrust.

After a few thrusts, Sherlock was coming apart. The sounds coming from him were inhuman. "John, I'm almost there, I'm about to...oh God." 

John wasn't far behind Sherlock, he could feel the tension building in his stomach. "Oh God.. Sherlock.." It only took a couple more thrusts and he collapsed on top of Sherlock, sweaty and panting. The two lay together for a minute, on top of each other, amid the scents of sex. 

"John..." Sherlock whispered, adjusting his neck so he’d be able to look at him.

"Mm?" John didn't have the energy to respond properly.

"I...that was...amazing. God." Sherlock rolled out from under John and then hugged him close to his breast. "I never...I've never experienced anything like that. Thank you. I love you.”

"I love you too" John smiled. "Oh, and Sherlock? You’re on top next time.” He grinned.


End file.
